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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25567657">you're a forest fire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kritiquer/pseuds/kritiquer'>kritiquer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Eavesdropping, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, M/M, Miscommunication, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Tumblr Prompt, maybe today, they'll talk to each other one day</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:02:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>900</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25567657</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kritiquer/pseuds/kritiquer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t understand, Penny!” Baz can picture Simon tugging at the thatch of curls on his head, subjecting them to undeserved punishment.<br/>He then realizes that neither of them are aware that he’s in the flat, much less that he can hear both of them clearly.<br/>or, for the prompt: "things you said that I wasn't meant to hear."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>112</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you're a forest fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/twokisses/gifts">twokisses</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For years—possibly since Baz had met him—Simon Snow was fire. He was agonizing flames scorching Baz’s heart and mind, then he was gentle embers curling around that very heart, warming Baz from inside out the way only Simon could do. It seems inevitable, then, that eventually the very flame that Simon embodied would one day fizzle out. </p><p><em> Burn out, </em> as Bunce had told him. <em> He’s burnt out, Basil.  </em></p><p>As if Baz didn’t already know. As if he hadn’t seen Simon wither and grow distant before his very own eyes, feeling hopelessly helpless. It wasn’t as if Baz wouldn’t amass all the oxygen he could possibly find and send it Simon’s way. He would reignite his fire, in any way Simon would allow him to, and do anything—absolutely anything at all—to help keep the fire alive. </p><p><em> Hadn’t he told him that? </em> Baz can’t remember (they’re both rubbish at communicating, especially with each other. He’s earned top marks in every class involving speech, and yet can’t summon up the courage to initiate a conversation with his boyfriend). (The love of his life, if he’s being properly sappy about it). (They’re both cowards, is what they are). </p><p>And so Baz tries to show him he cares in a way he hopes Simon understands, in lieu of using words. (Ironic, that. He had spent years snarling at Simon to use his words, and now words had failed both of them). He’d started stopping by a bakery that sells sour cherry scones, picking up a dozen. They’d remained untouched the first time, and since then he’s resorted to bringing a couple and requesting Bunce to make sure Simon at least knew of their existence. He had even suggested that they go on walks repeatedly, until he realized Simon’s grunts were refusals, and didn’t mean that he would consider doing it. </p><p>And so, at the end of the day, all of Baz’s efforts to show his support to Simon are in vain: it seems as though they haven’t done anything but drive them further apart. </p><p>—</p><p>“You don’t understand, Penny!” Baz can picture Simon tugging at the thatch of curls on his head, subjecting them to undeserved punishment. </p><p>Baz then realizes that neither of them are aware that he’s in the flat, much less that he can hear both of them clearly. He surely hadn’t expected to come back from his trip to the grocer’s to find Bunce and Simon in the middle of a screaming match, and he isn’t quite sure what he should do. He does know that technically, the moral thing to do would be to leave and come back once they’ve both cooled down as to not eavesdrop. If it was any other time he probably would have done just that, but he hasn’t heard Simon speak with an emotive inflection in his voice in what feels like ages, so he finds himself rooted to his spot. </p><p>“Then make me understand, Simon,” Bunce’s voice is strained, her concern giving way to patience that’s been tested for far too long. </p><p>
  <em> How long have they been at this? Have they had this argument before? </em>
</p><p>“He’s too <em> good, </em>alright? He’s a fucking star, Penny! He—fuck—he’s so intelligent and handsome and talented! Look what a mess our lives are, and he’s prospering despite that! All I’m doing is dragging him down, and he deserves better than that. I have nothing to offer him, why can’t any of you see that?”</p><p>He hears Simon repeat the words—<em>I have</em> <em>nothing to offer him</em>—his voice barely above a whisper, and feels his heart splinter and spill across the floor. He can’t hear Bunce’s reply over the pounding in his ears, and wonders how they both got it so wrong. They both believed that the other deserved better, but had either of them ever actually asked each other what they wanted? He’s so caught up in this realization that he almost doesn’t notice Simon and Bunce enter the room, their faces stricken with surprise at seeing him. </p><p>“Baz. I—You weren’t—you weren’t here—I thought—” </p><p>“Simon.” </p><p>“Baz?” </p><p>“<em>Simon.”  </em></p><p><em> Do you </em> see <em> me, Simon? Are you ready to talk now? Please? </em></p><p>“Can we go on a walk?” Simon looks a bit taken aback as soon as he says it, almost as if he hadn’t been expecting himself to suggest a walk. </p><p>Baz wants to counter with <em> can we talk? </em>but the vulnerability in Simon’s frame stops him. Suggesting a walk seemed painful enough. Was it enough for Baz to start hoping? Was it a sign of forthcoming growth, was it a nudge in the right direction? Baz had come here with every intent to tell Simon how he felt: to sit down across from him and confess his feelings, no matter how foreign the concept was to him. Hearing what Simon had to say to Bunce had added a stronger sense of urgency to that, as if he had to tell Simon how he was mistaken immediately, no matter what the consequences were. </p><p>But now Simon’s staring at him with a face full of defeat, and maybe this is how they end: they crash and burn. Or, Baz says yes, and they go on a walk destined to be painfully awkward—and they rebuild. </p><p>In the end, the choice is clear: after all, Baz would cross every single line for him. <em> What’s another? </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! i'm sourcherrysconess on tumblr, come say hi :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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